#eddie 'the freak' munson

[indouloureux]

love me forever, eddie my love

eddie munson x reader

summary: early mornings, whispers prosed into promises of evermore, eddie takes care of your tired soul, all while indulging in the love you give to him.

word count: 3, 555

warnings: SMALL DESCRIPTIONS OF SMUT (MINORS DNI, OR SKIP THE ITALIZED PART), nudity but no nsfw, fluff, slight angst at the end, eating cereal horribly, and a shit ton of fluff

a/n: rushed bc i wanted to write him again. i PROMISE i'm posting that mcu!peter next then steve harrington. hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

There’s a peaceful wave of melody when it comes to birds chirping in the early morning outside the trailer. The warm sun filters through the thin blinds, lending a liberating glow in the Tartarean aspect of his chamber. The duvet is soft against your bare skin, wrapped around your tangled limbs on the bed created for things holy and unholy – a bed for the angel and the devil.

The smell of his hair evades you. Fresh, cigarettes and apples, and you. A leg over his and a leg over yours as an unconscious sign of trust and comfort between two divine lovers. Both arms around your tired frame as an act of protection and salubrious possession; and slumbering lips on the crowd of your head as a saying of reverential devotion.

A sacred moment hours after a wicked affair—

Your face dug deep on the bed, ass up and back arched as his comforting hand caressed your waist and sweaty back, hips slamming against yours while his cock dug deep inside your puffy cunt. All wet and sticky from mixed arousals.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he’d growl, his hair sticking to his neck and face. “Taking my cock, huh? Greedy fucking girl,” a spank on your ass, reverberating against his torso. You moan loudly, clutching the sheets beneath you. His balls pound on your clit, the head of his dick bulging on your navel at each animalistic thrust.

You push yourself back to him in sync of his fucking, his other hand coming up to tangle itself in your hair and pull your head up. He leans down and kisses up your back to your neck, turning your face to kiss your swollen lips.

All while his hips continue to slam into yours. Until his cum paints your insides white and yours sheathing his cock. He moans and so do you, loud and harmonic in this burning bedroom—

—where his heart’s got a wild sovereignty on yours. A rather calumnious festival, heard not seen by neighbors. But neither of you care, because it’s not like anyone cares about the both of you anyway; it’s all just their selfish wants.

Beside you, he groans, moving to his back but keeping an arm beneath your neck as he rubs his eyes with his forearm. You blink a couple of times, eyesight adjusting to the sun-lit bedroom of your boyfriend. His biceps flex, chest risen to an exhale of being waken, face scrunched into a cute stretch.

Then he faces you again, wrapping his arm around your waist where his fingers reach the ends of your hair and twirls it around his ring-clad limbs.

He sees your half-lidded eyes and smiles. “Good morning,”

“Good morning, Eddie,” you smile. You admire way the skin around his face crinkles when he smiles, deep lines of serenity. With an aching hand do you reach up to push his bangs away from his forehead, now lacking the previous sweat from last night.  Eddie stares at you with a soft smile and wide doe eyes staring deep into your equivocal soul. Post-sex glow fits him well, makes him look innocent and cherubic beneath your sinning touch.

“Post-sex glow fits you well,” he murmurs, voice doused in lethargy. So maybe you too. The hand around your waist comes up to cup your face, left cheek carried by his rough palm.

Eddie can’t resist kissing you. And he does – begins his pathway to your forehead, creeping his soft lips on both your eyelids until they drag down to your creased cheeks to which formed from a silly smile; the bridge of your nose to the tip of your nose in a cute tempo, until he takes your top lips into his in a gradual kiss, like he’s savoring the moment.

You break away in a soft click, lips tasting of him. “Thank you,” your hand comes up to hold his wrist, feeling his calm pulse beneath your thumb. You kiss him again, just because.

“Jus’ basic knowledge, sweetheart,” Eddie wraps his leg around yours, closer, soft cock grazing your navel. “You look good post-anything. Pre-anything. You look beautiful anytime.”

“Flirt,” you turn your head away, his hand coming up to rest on top of your face. He feels the warmth on your face and giggles at your flustered reaction. His fingers dig a bit on the side of your face, like he’s puncturing them with his short nails. “Eddie,”

“Whaaat?” Eddie shakes your head, doesn’t stop until you look at him. You give him a look, the hand coming up behind his head, the other still beneath you“Not my fault you get to shy easily,”

You moan petulantly, creeping closer to dig your head on his chest. Eddie laughs, the un-metal like music vibrating on his chest and comforts your sleepy daze. He hugs you tightly. “‘M hungry, Eds.”

“In a minute, babe,” you feel his nose on your hairline, and you hear him smell your hair. “I’m still enjoying this. You smell so amazing. Like – like a baby, or something. It’s so amazing.”

You run a hand down his hair, fingers carding down until you untangle them. “You can smell me later when you give me food, Edward.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Laughing, you push your face away from his naked chest and prop yourself up on one arm. Your body still feels sore, and even propping yourself up took a lot of energy. Your arm shakes, struggles to hold your head up, but anything to look down on Eddie and see him look up at you with those forever curious eyes.

“Still sore?” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself doing the same. “Can see your arm shaking. You must be so tired.”

“Yeah. Well you try getting fucked from behind like an animal, babe,” you roll your eyes. Eddie chuckles again, hand coming down to massage your naked bicep. “We used a condom last night, right?”

Eddie glances behind him, comes back with frightened eyes. “Um,”

“Eddie?!”

“I’m kidding,” his face softens, blocks his face from your hand that’s come to playfully strike his arm. “‘Course I used a condom. If I didn’t, you’d probably have a little Munson right in your stomach.”

You let your head fall on the pillow. “It’s too soon.”

“Yeah. We still got that Corroded Coffin world tour to do. A baby’s gonna stop us from doing that,” but Eddie’s hand comes up and down your waist to your stomach, as if caressing a non-existent bump.

“I can’t jump up and down with a baby in my stomach, y’know?” Eddie scrunches his nose at you. “It’s gonna fall down my vagina.”

He shudders in disgust. “Gross.”

Eddie digs his face onto the crook of your neck. You can feel the exhale of his nose against your flesh. His morning hugs, in your opinions, are the best of all his hugs – tired but motivated by your presence, tight in a way that says he’s never letting you go, sweet in a way that says he adores you more than anything else in this world. It’s the type of hug that makes you feel safe, comforted, especially in moments where you feel like a rock’s pulling you down to the bottom of the ocean.

Especially then.

In his arms is of a benevolent sanctuary. Providing you the love you crave for, the attention you deserve. Being in his abode is a well enough sign that you’re so much more to him.

In that blissful hug, he pulls away just to look at you again. Eddie’s hand comes down to soothe your thigh. “I think I forgot to clean you up last night,”

“We fell asleep right after, bub,” you say. “We’re actually still both sticky. It’s gross and we need to shower, to be honest.”

“We’ll shower later. I’ll wipe you down first,” he gives your forehead a quick kiss before he’s pushing the covers off his body. Sitting up, his back stretches to rid the sleep of his body, until they muster up the energy to stand him up to the ground. He picks out a new pair of briefs off the cabinet nearby and wears them quickly.

Eddie catches you eyeing his dick and smiles teasingly. “Tsk tsk. It’s eight in the morning and you’re staring at a dick, (y/n)? Perv.”

You gasp. “Oh, I’m the perv? Who was the one who kept rubbing their hard-on on my ass because I was wearing a skirt, huh? Feel that babe? I’m so hard and horny for you! Forget your stupid homework.”  You mock his voice, deeper than his usual.

“In my defense, that skirt was like, halfway down your ass.”

“It’s because I was bending.”

“Still!” He bends to pick up your underwear, dangles them in front of you. “Cute panties, babe. It kind of represents me, with the cute little devils and shit.”

“Eds, you chose those,” you sit up and rest on the headboard, covering the duvet around you. He rummages more to pick out new undergarments and tosses them to you, pulling two other shirts but keeps them folded on top of the cabinet. “Remember when you ripped mine off?”

“It was kind of sexy, though, admit it,” he winks. “Wait, don’t put them on, give me a second.”

He disappears outside his bedroom for a few seconds before he comes back with a washcloth in his hand. Eddie crawls to the bed, the bedsprings squeaking from his weight. And while he quietly asks for you to remove the cover off, his hand gently holds your ankle and spreads your legs apart.

“Baby, you’re still swollen,” he murmurs. Eddie kisses your knee and drags the cloth on the inside of your thigh. “Was I too rough last night, sweets?”

“A bit, yeah,” you wince when he presses a bit harder on your cunt, a kiss on your thigh as an apology. “But I – I liked it. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, bet you did,” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. He drags the cloth up to your navel, to your stomach where he meticulously wipes ever part, even to your exposed chest, bathing you with a simple rag. But he doesn’t wipe your face, instead encasing your small head between his large fingers and looks at you.

His eyes dance on every ridge of your face. Gentle eyes that know him for who he truly is, ones that have seen him in his happiest, in his lowest, when he’s mad. Gentle eyes that look at him as if he’s worth something. Lips that whisper the sweetest thing at nights when, and even when he doesn’t need it, makes him feel sufficient in this cruel world. Lips that he begs to kiss every minute and every second of the day to let everyone know that you’re the angel in his dark world.

Eddie sits up and takes a shirt from behind him – large, black with the DIO logo on the top. “Hands up,” he instructs you. Slowly, you oblige. He slips the shirt on easily, and gives your nose a feather light kiss before he discards the rag inside the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of new jeans – black and ripped, pale knees exposed through the broken threads. Eddie’s also got a new pair of underwear, yours, in the other hand is a box of Honeycomb and two bottles of Yoo-hoo. He sets the cereal aside, hands pulling on your ankles and slips your feet in both holes before he pulls them up for you.

“I can wear them by myself, y’know,” you wave your foot around his face.

“I prefer doing it for you, gorgeous,” he blows a kiss at you. Eddie picks the Honeycomb from the ground and offers you, where you gladly took like a hungry child. He watches you chew on them, a large cluster shoved inside your mouth, only to be watered down by the chocolate drink – a thing you picked up from eating breakfast almost every morning with your boyfriend. “Slow down. You’ll choke,”

He wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, cleaning it off by sucking the milk off his skin. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you joke, mouthful of damp Honeycomb.

“Ah?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at you before he takes the box from your hands. He shoves a large amount inside his mouth like a hypocrite, drowns the dry breakfast with chocolate milk just like you did. “You don’t get more, then.”

“Hey, I’m kidding!” you reach forward to helplessly grab the box off his hands. You expect him to wrestle with you, but he knows you’re tired still and offers you the box. “I’ll eat slow this time,”

With a smile, he gives you the box and stands up. Eddie struts his way to the guitar on his mirror, taking it off and slinging it around him; it must have been his short attention span that he’s suddenly decided to play his guitar early in the morning. You smile while chewing, and he points at you as if you were at one of his shows, dedicating whatever song he plays.

Motörhead’s Love Me Forever’s first verse plays, the lack of amplifier making it sound like an acoustic. Eddie looks down on his hands that switch between chords complicated for you, bobbing his head on each tempo.

“Love me forever or not at all

End of our tether, backs to the wall,”

Though his primary genre is metal, Eddie's voice is that of a dulcet resonance. Pitch flawless at any octave; Eddie can lull you with any made-up lullaby at any insomniac night with a hand massaging your scalp, pulling you closer to his body. It’s your own personal harp – your own music. And if you could, you’d like to keep him to yourself forever.

“Give me your hand, don’t you ever ask why

Promise me nothing, live ‘till we die,”

Eddie sits beside you, red guitar on his lap, and urges you to straddle his knees. Just enough where his hands can still pluck on the strings. Your bare thighs scrape on his knees as you sit on them, clad only in his shirt and a pair of panties that you left long ago. Your hands play with his hair, his eye lined to your nose so he’s looking up at you with his pretty eyes, an admiring twinkle in them as they stare into yours.

“Everything changes, it’s all the same,” you sing with him, voice coalescing perfectly as your fingers coif his hair. Eddie leans close and kisses you chastely, lets you sing the next line alone in the quiet room. “Everyone guilty, no one to blame,”

“Every way out brings you back to the start, everyone dies to break someone’s heart,” with bangs parted in the middle, you press your lips on his forehead. Eddie closes his eyes and hums in satisfaction, a hand leaving his guitar to place itself on your back to prevent you from falling.

You admire his tattoos – five bats, a puppet – like Master of Puppets by Metallica – and other black tattoos that signify Eddie. Your fingers kiss the permanent art, eyes worshiping the inked skin.

You pull away to squish his face between your hands, cheeks pushed together that his lips are puckered. Eddie widens his eyes at you. “You’re clingier than usual,” you confess.

“What? You don’t like it?” his eyes fall into an umbra of disquiet, but tries to fool you with the squished smile. “Little Elf does not accept the Dungeon Master’s devotion? His heart’s demolished!”

Eddie teases you in his usual DM voice, deep and supposedly haunting. But you laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his shoulders. “This is about yesterday, isn’t it?”

It dawns on you, just seconds ago, that your boyfriend doesn’t usually indulge in sweeter moments other than cleaning you up and offering you breakfast, but never before singing you a song early in the morning.

It must have been because of what happened – Hawkins’s students muttering freak under their breath whenever he’d passed by, which he disregards as something he’s already used to but really you both know it hurts him, tattooing it in his mind as a taunt and an insult that’ll forever taunt him.

Yesterday was no different, however, took a masked toll on him. Freak muttered by at least four kids, less than the usual, and he remains unbothered. Until he heard that some asshat from the Basketball team plans on making the move on you, and that they’d prefer him than a freak for some girl like you.

And he thinks, sadly, that you might have thought the same. And so he’s trying his best to be better – sweeter – for you. Just like what he thought you wanted. Because the guilt’s eating him up alive, wrapping it around his neck to keep him still and gnawing on his flesh. So here he is, playing a song for you in the morning with all his might, and the heartwarming smile on your face eases the tension in his chest.

That was, until, you brought it up.

“What are you talking about?” you lean back a bit as he removes his guitar and onto the bed beside him. Eddie acts casual, pretends he’s got no idea what you’re saying. “Why what happened yesterday? Did someone hurt you?”

“We go to the same school, Eds. We hear the same gossip.” You clarify. “I know you heard it. About McKinney planning on asking me out. And how people say-”

“That he’s better fitting for you?” he finishes. “Yeah I heard it. Guilty,” he chuckles dryly, avoiding your eyes in shame. “Y’know, they’re kind of right.”

You remove your hands from him, instead on his thighs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s a normal guy. In the basketball team, friends with popular guys, good looking,” He lists them off with three fingers, raising his eyebrows at each declaration. You take Eddie’s hand into yours and pull it down.

“Are you saying you don’t…fit, with me?”

Your small voice breaks his heart, no doubt, but he only thinks he’s stating the truth. “I mean, am I not? I’m a freak, (y/n). I’ve – I have always been. You’re special, unlike anybody else, and yet here you are with me, Hawkins High’s legendary freak.”

“Eddie, I don’t care,” You pull on his fingers, twirling the rings around as a comforting manner. “You think I would have dated you if I thought you were some psycho?”

“Babe, I said freak, not psycho. Those are two different things-”

“Semantics!”

“They’re-” he laughs, a wheeze. “They’re not semantics-”

“I don’t care, Eddie.” You take his face into your hands, palms small but face fitting well like a key to a lock. “I don’t care. What even made you think this way?”

Baneful overthinking. Realization. Normal Eddie Munson stuff. “Because I am a freak,” he takes your hands off, but places his own on your waist to keep you in place. “And I just think you deserve so much better.”

“What, you think I want to be with those pretentious assholes?” you scoff. “They’re so boring, Eddie. I’d be miserable the entire time I’m with them. They’re basic, they’re two-faced. I don’t want to be with them.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s mean.”

“Well they’re mean, and I can be meaner,” you raise your eyebrows. “You know I can be meaner, Eddie.”

He remembers. You can be meaner. And as much as that laughable memory paints a smile on his face, it’s the least of what he’s thinking right now. “But do you actually think that I’m a freak? Just because I’m the leader of this club? Or – or I listen to metal or I’ve got long hair, or I sell drugs?”

“What, you wanna be like them?” you push his hair away out of his face. “I mean, being a freak is the best, Eddie. You’ve got personality. You’re way awesome than Jason Carver and his pale ass. It’s what makes you…you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up and taking his hand with you. “You’re my Eddie, Eddie.”

Eddie takes your waist into his hand, the other taking your hand to rest on his shoulder. And while he raises your other joint fingers, he finds himself resting his forehead against yours with closed eyes.

“Eddie I love you so,” he smiles at your voice, like a harp sitting on a cloud in heaven that pulls him up from hell. He kisses your joint hands, on your knuckle. “Eddie please write one more line,”

He spins you around, tugs you back to his chest where your temple rests on a tattoo right above his left chest. He kisses the top of your head, like earlier, and hums along with you.

“Tell me your love is still only mine. Please Eddie don’t make me wait too long.”

In the middle of his small bedroom, swaying to your voice and eternal music inside your tethered minds, he unveils your soul then like he always does and loves it in forbearance. The moment an insignia from the quiet prosed promises you made to each other but kept to yourselves:

“I love you,” he whispers. “I promise to love you forever.”

banner by @/lauras-collection

#stranger things spoilers #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things four #hellfire club #eddie 'the freak' munson #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #indouloureux's writing #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #x reader

[mroddmod]

'86, baby!

#stranger things fanart #stranger things 4 #stranger things #st #st4 #stranger things 4 fanart #fanart #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #modsisawesome #mods draws #mods art

[guys-im-literally-spiderman]

in his 40s after 20 years of tours, award ceremonies and parties with fucking celebrities, Steve finally went back to school and studied to start working as a councilor in a high school.

He quickly becomes a favourite staff member among the students, especially the ones in the GSA he founded and runs. But to them, he is a complete mystery. He takes to just dropping shocking pieces of information in the middle of a conversation to watch the students’ shock. and he shamelessly uses the promise of a story to bribe students into behaving.

the best reaction by far, is the one he gets at graduation every year, when he tells that year’s graduating GSA members that he is indeed married to Eddie Munson, front man of the very famous metal band ‘corroded coffin’.

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #he just loves watching them all completely freak out #and then realise that it all makes so much sense

[lunaraindrop]

Steddie fic idea:

Someone recorded one or a few of Corroded Coffin's songs and put it on cassette tape. (It could be live show, but the sound would have to be really clear)

In a shuffle, the tape gets played at a party Steve goes to...and he is enamored. He ends up paying the guy who played it $5 for the tape, and the song becomes his favorite.

All Steve has of the song is the one mixed tape. Nobody he talks to knows where the song came from. The record store was no help. (He is, of course, asking all the wrong people)

Steve is also very afraid that he will overplay the tape and break it.

Out of all the Tears for Fears, Abba, Bruce Springsteen, etc out there, *this* is the song that could save him from Vecna...but he doesn't even know what it is really called or who made it.

...

How funny is it that Eddie Munson wrote that song about some hot jock that he had a crush on...

#steddie #steddie fic idea #steve harrington #eddie munson #a sweet metal song about a freak loving a jock

[littlexdeaths]

i get off - e.m.

perv eddie munson x perv fem reader

you don’t know that i know, you watch me every night…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), eddie is lil peeping tom but reader loves it, they both steal each other’s shit, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mean!dom eddie, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, squirting, they both are nasty freaks

a/n: this is another edit and repost from my old account. it’s one of my favorite fics so i had to move it over here. enjoy freaks xx. 😘

based on i get off by halestorm

word count: 3.8k

you’re sprawled out on your bed, fingers running through your drenched folds. clad in only an oversized iron maiden t-shirt and a pair of knee high socks, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. plucked directly out of one of his dirtiest fantasies.

you can feel his eyes on you, you always do.

not that he realizes that.

and while you’ve lived barely ten feet apart for your entire lives, eddie has never had the courage to make a move.

so he settles for this— watching you through his bedroom window.

fantasizing that the delicate fingers now dipping inside you were his. and the fist currently wrapped around his thick cock was smaller, softer. yours.

the first time he witnessed you like this it was a complete accident.

you had been pent up all day, and didn’t think to shut your bedroom curtains before slipping your hand inside your panties. the bedside lamp bathing your room in a muted yellow hue. eddie had been working on a new song, guitar perched on his lap.

he was frustrated with trying to string together this new melody, glancing up in utter annoyance. that is until his gaze drifted towards the window, his eyes widened and his cock stirred in his jeans.

you looked beautiful, you always did. however this was the most vulnerable state you could be in, and the fact that he got to witness it— made you all the more enchanting to him.

he’d be embarrassed to admit that watching you touch yourself made him cum in his jeans, completely untouched. and that first time you were none the wiser, not noticing the dark eyes that were trailing your figure. but once eddie had gotten a taste he couldn’t get enough.

eagerly waiting by his bedroom window to enjoy his new favorite nightly program… you.

you weren’t sure exactly how long he’d been doing it for, but the night you caught him in the act, it awoke something within you. while eddie made sure to keep his bedroom light off, the moonlight was not on his side that night.

it had filled his room in a soft white glow, highlighting his pale skin. his naked form perched on the edge of his unmade bed, stroking his shaft in tandem with each thrust of your fingers.

his moans are what gave him away, as your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure. but he’d gotten a little too carried away, thinking about how pretty your pussy would look stuffed full with his cock.

the thin walls of the trailer doing nothing to conceal his sounds. when your eyes finally opened, you were met with the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

eddie fucking himself into his fist, his head tilted back as he spilled all over his ringed fingers. the image alone had your eyes rolling back, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. one of the most intense you’ve ever had, and from that night on you always kept your curtains open.

desperately chasing that euphoric feeling again.

while you didn’t always see him, you knew he was there. the feeling of his greedy eyes on you was enough to have you cumming harder than you ever have in your entire life. your whimpers were muffled but still rang through his ears as he’d make a mess all over his hand and chest.

different images of you— on your knees, on top of him, taking you from behind, or his favorite with his head buried between your thighs.

it was slowly driving him crazy, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. he needed more. he quickly found himself staring out his window any chance he could. gazing longingly as you floated around your bedroom.

he watched you change, get ready for the day, study with your college textbooks. your pencil resting in between your teeth. eddie knew it was wrong, that if you ever found out you would be revolted.

if he only knew it was the exact opposite, and how you couldn’t finish without feeling his eyes on you. but you also needed more, desperate to feel his weight on top of you. his mouth trailing over your skin, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

so you became bolder, going as far as to leave your bedroom window open. letting your moans drift through the night air, teasing him further.

and when you noticed some of your panties had gone missing it only heightened your desire for him. knowing he was in your room, touching your things… holding your panties up to his nose as he came all over himself.

grunts of your name escaped his pouted lips, and his left yours as you drenched your fingers. but it wasn’t enough.

you needed him.

fueled by your insatiable lust you found yourself gazing at him more and more. as he sat on his messy floor, playing guitar or working on a dnd campaign. focusing intently on his fingers, and imagining just how good they would feel inside you.

but your favorite was when he was fresh out of the shower. his dark curls were drenched, water dripping down his inked chest. the patch of hair that disappeared beneath his towel drove you absolutely mad.

so you took a play out of his own book, sneaking into his room while he was working at benny’s. or coming home late from a gig at the hideout, surrounding yourself in everything that was so distinctly eddie.

eddie honestly wasn’t concerned when a few of his shirts had gone missing. or a pair of his cum stained boxers, a guitar pick… as he lost things all the time. he simply chalked it up to his forgetful nature, either he misplaced them or lent them to someone.

that is until tonight, as he peered through your window for what felt like the millionth time. his heart was in his throat as he instantly recognized the iron maiden shirt adorning your frame as his.

the realization dawns on him that you knew exactly what he’d been doing this whole time… and instead of being disgusted or upset, you liked it. enough so that you began doing the same thing to him.

that epiphany made any reservations or fears he still had fade into nothingness. the male decided that he couldn’t sit back and only watch you anymore.

he had to have you.

the brunette rose to his feet, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his long legs before slipping out of his bedroom window. quickly dropping onto the ground as he walks the short distance to your adjoined trailer.

his large hands grip the bottom of the window sill, pushing it open the rest of the way before he’s hoisting himself through it. a small gasp leaves you as he tumbles inside and onto your bedroom floor.

eddie is quick to get back on his feet, as you eagerly eye the obvious tent in his gray sweats. licking his plump lips as he sizes you up. he stalks forward like a predator, slowly crawling onto your bed and between your spread legs.

the male grabs your wrist, coaxing your fingers out of your drenched cunt. raising them up to his mouth, slipping them between his lips with a deep groan. “such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

for once you’re speechless, his actions jumbling your already fuzzy thoughts. you never imagined he’d actually come through your window, like you’d been dreaming about for weeks.

“speak for yourself munson…” your confidence suddenly comes rushing back, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. feeling your wetness pooling onto the bed sheets as he swirls his tongue around them.

“guess we’re both a little dirty, huh baby?” eddie chuckles as he removes your fingers from his mouth, now leaning over you.

letting yourself fall back against the pillow, his face mere inches from yours. this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to him, now noticing the light freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose. the dimple that indents his cheek as he smirks down at you, little things that you found utterly endearing.

his hands begin drifting down your sides, his smirk only widening as you shudder beneath him. “is that what does it for ya? you like being watched sweetness?” he grips the fabric of his shirt, starting to push it up your torso.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. “i get off on you…” you slowly trail your lips up his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto his pale skin. the male letting out a husky moan as you nip at his ear, “getting off on me.”

eddie curses under his breath before he’s pinning you down against the mattress, his lips crashing against yours. your fingers tangle in his wild curls, kissing him back just as forcefully. all the pent up sexual tension and desire now spilling from both of you, as his hips rut into yours. feeling his hard length pressing onto your thigh, moaning into his mouth.

your impatience seems to get the better of you as you grip onto one of his wrists, guiding his large hand in between your thighs. a not so subtle way of telling him exactly what you wanted, the male nipping at your lower lip before he’s leaning back onto his knees.

spreading your thighs even wider, as his dark eyes zero in on the mess between them. his fingers dip between your folds, gathering your sticky nectar on the digits. swirling them around your swollen clit before moving lower.

the metalhead teases you as he circles the tip of his middle finger on your entrance. barely pushing it inside you before removing it, a wet squelch filling the room. “oh listen to her purr for me baby… you want my fingers inside you?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hips up in an effort to get him closer to where you needed him. but he pulls them away immediately, causing you to whine from the loss. eddie grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together as he meets your hooded gaze. “i asked you a question, sweet cheeks.”

he watches as your eyes glaze over more, the dominance he was exuding turning your brain to mush. “and i expect an answer, or is that pretty little head of yours too fucked out for me?” his tone is condescending, borderline rude but it only seems to fuel the fire in between your legs.

you let out a soft whimper, the male letting go of your cheeks to trail his sticky fingers down your jaw.

“need your fingers eddie…” the male chuckles, wrapping his hand around your neck. hovering his face over yours, his thumb stroking the column of your throat.

“need them where, hm?”

you’re quickly becoming impatient, and he can tell from how your lips jut out into a pout. thighs closing in around his own, in an attempt to feel some kind of friction.

“come on now… don’t ya wanna be a good girl for me?” he can see the effect those words have on you, your pupils dilating and your breath hitching in your throat.

“put them inside me.”

while your tone is meant to be demanding, it comes out as more of a plea than anything else. your heart is racing in anticipation as his fingers trail down your stomach. cupping your cunt in the palm of his hand, “and what do good girls say?”

you now realize your mistake, the male raising a brow as he awaits your answer. “please touch me.” eddie is quick to reward you, plunging two fingers into your awaiting heat.

“see? now you’re learning,” another string of curses leaves his mouth as your walls tighten around his fingers and a high pitched moan falls from yours.

“shit sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” he curls the digits up, watching in awe as your back arches off the mattress.

“fuck i need to taste you,” he mumbles more to himself as he lays between your thighs. his tongue darting out, encircling your clit with an urgency you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

the noises you’re making are music to his ears, and while he’s heard them before— you’ve never sounded quite so needy. pride blossoms in his chest knowing it was because of him, you needed him. he was making you feel this good.

your thighs begin to tremble as he increases the pressure of his tongue, pumping his fingers faster.

“m-more need more.” while eddie wanted to reprimand you for not using your manners, he’s been waiting to have you like this for far too long.

but he’d make sure you didn’t forget next time… if there was a next time. he hoped there would be.

he slips a third finger inside you, the long, thick digits reaching places you never realized existed until now.

and now that you knew what they felt like, your own would never suffice again.

“aww pretty thing, you gonna cum?” he chuckles mockingly as the sound vibrates against your core.

the feeling only aiding in bringing your release that much closer, as your eyes flutter shut. a harsh slap on your thigh has them flying back open, your eyes meeting his as he looks up at you from his position between them.

“eyes on me,” his tone is stern, commanding as his tongue returns to assaulting your swollen bud.

as you start to grind your hips up against his mouth, it pushes his fingers even deeper inside you. hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out a broken, “oh god, please.”

eddie hums against you, increasing the speed of his fingers. “i prefer master… but god has a nice ring to it.” if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm you might have found that funny, not registering his soft laughter as he sucks harshly on your clit.

the sensation is what finally sends you over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his head and trapping him there.

not that he would ever dare complain.

once you settle back into the mattress is when he pulls away, crawling back up your body towards you. your excitement covers his chin in a light sheen, now tasting yourself as he kisses you with a bruising force.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his legs. feeling his cock rubbing against the bare skin of your thigh, and you want nothing more than to feel it hard and heavy on your tongue.

“wanna taste you too eds,” you whine as he trails his lips across your jaw, sucking onto your skin. as much as he would love to have you gagging on his cock, his impatience had reached its peak.

“next time sweetness… need to be inside you.”

you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. the promise of a next time making your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

eddie unwillingly untangles himself from you, now standing at the edge of the bed to remove his sweats. his cock stands at full attention as you sit up, eagerly crawling towards him. your mouth waters at the sight, finally able to admire him how you’ve been dying to for the last few weeks.

you wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft, glancing up at him as you lick up the pre-cum that was smeared across his pink tip. the male grips a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging you off his dick as a small whimper leaves you.

“hands and knees— now.” he nearly growls at you, releasing you as you continue to look up at him in a daze.

“don’t make me repeat myself baby.”

and as much as you would love to test how far you could push his buttons, that would be saved for a later date. so you do as you’re told, crawling away from him now on your hands and knees.

feeling his eyes trailing over the plush skin of your ass, “take a picture munson, it’ll last longer.”

what you don’t expect is to hear the snap of your polaroid camera, whipping your head around to see the shit eating grin he was sporting. setting the camera and picture down on your dresser once more, “just following orders sweet cheeks.” he chuckles, crawling onto the bed behind you.

eddie lands a firm smack on your ass, his chest now draped across your back. his hot breath fanning over your neck as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “face the mirror, you aren’t gonna wanna miss this baby.”

your thighs clench together, now turning to face the full length mirror that stood across from your bed.

you glance at yourself briefly before your eyes trail upwards, now meeting his in the reflection. a cocky grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hands now roaming the full expanse of your ass.

feeling the tip of his cock brush against your core, pushing your hips back so you could feel more. eddie’s calloused hands grip you tightly, stopping any further movement on your part.

“don’t be fucking greedy, you’ll take what i give you.”

you squeak out a small apology, keeping your eyes focused on him as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. gasping once he slowly pushed himself into your awaiting heat, a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut as he bottoms out, his balls flush against the curve of your ass. you feel incredibly full, the stretch so divine it makes your head spin.

“eddie please.” you mewl, watching as his brown eyes meet yours.

desperate for him to do something— anything.

eddie’s rings dig into your hips, his eyes glancing down to watch as he slides his cock back out. groaning as you’ve already coated his length in your arousal, a sight he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

“gonna give you everything,” he grunts before slamming himself back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs as you fall forward onto the mattress.

you grip the edge of it for support as he continues to rock his hips into yours, this new angle allowing him to rub against your sweet spot perfectly. keeping your eyes locked on the mirror, the image of him behind you— thrusting into you will be seared in your memory forever.

the black ink swirling on his skin, the light sheen of sweat on his chest. the veins in his forearms that are much more noticeable as he grips you tighter. he looks more like a greek god than anyone had a right to.

your jaw is slack, mouth hanging open as you continue to watch him. the little ‘uh uh uhs’ that leave your lips mix with the sound of your skin slapping together. now filling the quiet space of your bedroom.

“taking me so well— this pussy was made for me.”

eddie moans, completely distracted by the way your pussy flutters around him. the creamy ring that’s formed around the base of his cock expanding with each thrust of his hips.

“look at me,” you whine, that signature smirk returning to his features as he meets your eyes in the mirror once more.

“aww poor little baby,” he coos, slipping his hand between your thighs and landing a harsh slap on your already sensitive bud. “always need my eyes on you… don’t you?”

a string of curses slips past your lips as you nod your head. “need it,” you whimper as his calloused fingertips circle over your clit. “need you.”

your words seem to have quite the effect on him, a low growl leaving him as he fucks into you even harder.

“what do you need me to do, pretty girl? tell me.” it takes you a minute before you can answer him, the male having fucked any coherent thoughts from your head.

“n-need it inside.” is the best you can manage, but eddie understands all too well.

it’s what he had hoped you would say, “yeah, you want me to fuck you so full? ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else?” your eyes roll back in your head, as the male wraps his other hand around your throat.

he handles you like a rag doll as he pulls you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest. the action forces his cock even deeper inside you, brushing against your cervix. his hand that was wrapped around your throat is now cradling your jaw, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

your half lidded eyes watch as he leans forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “this pussy is mine now, got that sweetness?”

it’s suddenly all too much, the rubber band in your middle finally snaps as your body trembles in his embrace. cries of his name and ‘yours yours yours’ tumbling from your mouth.

the brunette watches in amazement as you drench his thighs, your bed sheets— the pressure almost forcing him out completely.

the metalhead curses as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the wet squelching of your pussy finally sending him over the edge. grunting as he pumps you full of his cum, your body falling limp against his chest.

you’re both panting as you come down from your highs. his touch on your hips is much more gentle than before as he coaxes you onto your back.

you hum contently, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion hits you. eddie cradles your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses to each of your eyelids before his touch suddenly disappears.

your eyes fly open in alarm, reaching out for him as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “don’t worry… you aren’t rid of me just yet.”

eddie chuckles as he spreads your thighs apart, his dark eyes watching intently as his cum drips out of you. pooling onto the bed beneath you, making an even bigger mess of your sheets.

his head dips lower, inhaling as he gathers the mixture of both your arousal onto his awaiting tongue. moaning before diving in deeper, “shit, we taste good together.”

“too much,” you whimper, wiggling your hips away from his eager mouth due to the oversensitivity.

eddie presses a kiss to each of your thighs before he joins you once more, collapsing next to you with a boyish grin on his face. you reach out to trace the stubble along his jaw, your fingertips brushing over his plump lips.

you feel him release a shaky breath against your fingertips, the look he’s giving you makes your stomach do a little flip.

“so… is it too late to ask you out on a date?”

#the freak writes 🫧 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson x perv!reader #eddie munson filth #eddie munson fic

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, trying to give his fans an update on the band: So, unfortunately due to scheduling errors, we-

Steve, to himself: Ed-weird

Eddie:

Eddie:

Steve, still just to himself: Ed-weird Munson. Ed-weirdo Munson.

Steve: I wish I would have thought of that in high school.

#Eddie: …regretting not being a bigger bitch in high school?? #Steve: only to you freak #Gareth just trying to live: Do not do this weird flirting thing right now #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[adelicioustragedy]

Murray looking at Eddie and Steve while they shamelessly flirt: Jesus Christ another one

#steddie #gay eddie munson #bi steve harrington #eddie munson #steveddie #gay stranger things #they were all so gay #steddie hcs #steve harrington #bisexual steve harrington #incorrect steve harrington #incorrect eddie munson #murray stranger things #incorrect stranger things quotes #steddie headcanon #the fruity four #fruity four #eddie the freak munson #eddie x steve #steddie stranger things #steve the hair harrington #st5 predictions #st4 #st4 volume 2 #steve eddie #steve and eddie #steve x eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie is gay #steve is bi

[undreaming-fanfiction]

The Corroded Coffin used to think they'd be the new Metallica or Judas Priest. But where their passion and hard work never lacked, their big break just never came.

What did come, however, was an unexpected change of their career path.

It started innocently enough - they went through yet another failed meeting with recording studios, they'd travelled pretty far and it was for nothing. Instead of going back to Hawkins and risking another one of Eddie's road rages, they decided to break into an abandoned house and drink their sorrows away.

That is, until their empty bottles started collecting themselves, something invisible touched Gareth's shoulder and the dusty floor started showing written messages.

Jeff wanted to flee. Gareth to faint. But Eddie and Freak just shrugged. Eddie gestured towards the approximate ghost location and said "by the power of I don't give a shit anymore, I compel you to sit down and stop it, we'll clean the bottles when we leave tomorrow."

The rattling stopped. There was a moment of silence when the Corroded Coffin actually thought it had worked, but then the ghost overcame its shock and physically threw Eddie, his bandmates and their things out.

They sat on the wet grass for a while and contemplated their whole exitence. Eddie was pretty shaken about the whole thing because he'd just managed to royally piss off a ghost and lived to tell the tale. But apart from absolutely terrifying...it was also fun?

And his friends seemed to think the same. Jeff patted his shoulder and said: "not bad for a first touch with the unknown, huh?"

They stayed in the area and tried again. They decided to tape over their promotional video - not so great, they had to admit after rewatching it - and started documenting their ghostly encounters. And maybe it was just the timing, maybe it was their interactions and personalities, but it worked. They showed some of their tapes to a local TV station and they got a cautious yes, more than they ever had with their music.

They got assigned a small crew, Fred with a camera and Chrissy for sound, wrote their own episodes and did plenty of research. And they got to try quite a lot of different approaches with their ghostly friends. Eddie was amazing at taunting the ghosts, making them appear if there were any present. Gareth had a wonderfully calming presence, managing to save the CC's ass several times. Jeff was the brains, he made sure they'd always know the history of the house and the probable identity of the ghost. And Freak decided to dabble in the occult sciences with a terrifying precision. There could never be enough salt in Eddie's van for all the circles he made.

It all went well until they learned of the Creel House in Hawkins. They went there, did their research and before entering the house, they ordered some pizza for dinner. They assumed it would be over by midnight, thinking it was just another sad story of an unresolved murder, but the ghost of Henry Creel was out for blood.

Oh, and he also controlled the spiders of the house. That was new.

To set the scene: The crew had fled the house about an hour ago. Eddie was crouching behind an old table, blocking Henry's barrage of kitchen knives, shouting "IS THIS THE BEST YOU'VE GOT?!". Gareth was behind the table with Eddie, but he went more into the wailing territory with "I DON'T THINK THIS WILL HELP YOU MOVE ON, HENRY!". Jeff had blocked himself in the pantry and kept trying to identify the triggering moment - "I think he's re-enacting the murder of his mother, guys! Does that help?!" (it doesn't). And Freak gave up on salt circles and was now tossing handfuls of salt around the house with a questionable technique but unwavering determination.

Suddenly, a car horn.

Then, a bitchy male voice: "Are you coming to get your pizza or what? I have other customers to get to!"

Eddie gritted his teeth as Henry added heavy pans to the mix and hit his shoulder. "We're a little busy surviving here! Ask Chrissy to pay you!"

There was a muffled and annoyed "ugh" from behind the door and then: "Is it Henry again?"

Eddie just blinked. Gareth was more ready to answer: "Sure is! He's not a fan of our exorcism!"

And the pizza guy didn't leave. He just huffed and said something that sounded suspiciously like "amateurs".

Eddie wanted to punch him.

But before he could do that, the front door opened. Gareth held his breath, half expecting a sound of knives hitting their target.

Instead, they heard a few more steps and then: "What the fuck, Henry?!"

A faint whispering reached their ears, but they couldn't decipher it. But the pizza guy could.

"I don't care they didn't get your permission, Henry. Yeah, it's annoying, but what are you going to do? If more people die in this house, it's going to get demolished. You know that. Yeah, I know the house is old, but it's great for your spiders, right? They'd be homeless. Do you want to make your spiders homeless, Henry?"

They dared to peek from behind the table, and Eddie had to pinch himself. Because in the middle of the dusty dining room stood one of the prettiest young men Eddie had ever seen, hands on hips and arguing with something invisible.

The man completely ignored them.

"That's what I thought. Now, apologize. No, they can't hear you, so get creative."

All four CC members stared as words formed in the spilled salt: "SORRY".

The pizza guy seemed to be pleased. "Good job, Henry. Now, let me get them out of here and I promise I'll get the Party to bring you some new spiders when they capture them outside, yeah? Three knocks, slide them in a glass behind the door. Got it. Take care, Henry."

Only then did he look at Eddie and the others and frowned. "That's your cue to leave. Get your stuff and go, now." And as they were quickly collecting their scattered notes and recording equipment, he added: "and say goodbye when leaving. Don't be rude."

Four rushed "Bye, Henry!" and "Sorry, Henry"s later, the Corroded Coffin was standing on the grass outside, feeling the setting sun on their skin and smelling fresh pizza. Gareth promptly paid for the delivery, and everyone proceeded to thank their mysterious savior.

"I'm Steve," he said after they'd all expressed their thanks, "and you're stupid. Do you really do this without anyone who sees and hears them? Do you just stumble blindly into haunted houses for a fun and stabby time?"

Eddie had to swallow down a very bitchy response of his own. "Sorry to stroke your ego even more, pretty boy, but a man of your talents is hard to come by."

And Steve, to Eddie's massive shock, just cocked his head and fluffed his hair, probably out of habit, but damn. "Well, consider yourself lucky because I'm open to job offers," he said with a wink that brought Eddie back into his teenage fantasies. "You need someone like me, and I assume you pay better than pizza delivery. Do you?"

Turns out, their producer was willing to get one more person on board, especially when they finished processing the leftover footage from the Creel house.

Steve was an amazing addition. He was snarky, self-confident, easy to look at and most of all, he was fun and compassionate. Watching him communicate with ghosts of kids and help them move on made Eddie's icy heart melt.

But one day they were on a site of an unfortunate teenage death, Steve was chatting with the ghost of a 17 year old girl like they'd known each other for ages, he was laughing, cracking jokes, and then:

"No, he hasn't kissed me yet."

Eddie turned around on his heel and stared at Steve, snickering to himself and talking to a misty figure next to him. And worst of all, they were both staring right at Eddie.

"Hasn't even asked me out, no. You'd think he'd be interested, but I guess I'm doing something wrong."

And Eddie's head short-circuited, and all the repressed fantasies from nights next to Steve in their trailer came back with vengeance. He howled and threw himself at Steve, kissing him right on that bitchy mouth. "Doing something wrong?! Steven Harrington, those shorts of yours are doing everything right, but how about you say something, huh?!"

Steve returned the kiss to the cheering of the CC guys, Chrissy's clapping and Fred's disgusted noise, and shrugged when they broke apart. "I knew you'd get it, eventually. Oh, and Heather?" he turned to the ghost. "You're the best wingwoman ever, in this life and after."

Four good things came from this ghostly encounter:

After the kiss, Gareth finally gathered enough courage to ask Chrissy out. She said yes.

The episode with Heather became the most watched episode of the CC's show.

Steve and Eddie remained in an equally blissful and teasing relationship for the rest of their lives.

And finally...

The TV station decided to design official merch for the CC's show: incredibly short shorts that said on the backside: "DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT".

#steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #chrissy cunningham #drumcheer #not proofread we die like my sleep schedule

[mimixmunson]

Boyfriend!Eddie finds your porn history. Eddie Munson x female reader. Smut. Blurb🍆

Word count- 1.2k

🍆 “Hey baby.. umm I don’t wanna embarrass you..”Eddie was sprawled across the couch, his limbs representing an octopus whilst his curls fell down the arm of the couch. You had let him borrow your laptop, Dustin had split soda over Eddie’s during their latest dnd campaign. He smiles as he notices your wall-paper is a picture of the pair of you, that trip to the forest was one of your favourites.

“Huh?” You spoke, confusion filling the air. You were easily embarrassed so just the thought of being embarrassed made your face flush. “It’s just, I lost my page I was working on so- so I went on the history page to find it again. But I didn’t just find my campaign document, I saw your umm history. Baby I, I don’t want you to be embarrassed I mean we all do it right?” Your face burns under his words, you know exactly what he’s stumbled across.

“Seriously doll, your choices here.. My innocent little girl, isn’t so innocent huh?”He smirks, eyes gazing over your flushed face. You feel stuck to the floor, like any moment now the ground is going to open up and swallow you whole. “Eddie-“ You finally manage to muster up the courage to speak, your words causing your stomach to churn in shyness. “It’s okay. It’s all okay princess. I’m impressed, I mean let’s see here. ‘Blonde babe worships her step-father’s sweaty balls’ Well that’s filthy isn’t it? ‘Anal training’ Oh? You want me to take that other little hole for a test drive? ‘Double penetration mmf threesome.’ Sweet girl I had no idea you could be so kinky! Look at this here. ‘Submissive girl has play time with Daddy.’ Is that me? I’m your daddy?” He teases, his smirk practically audible in his voice as he teases. Your embarrassed self can’t handle much more. He was never meant to see this, these searches they were just late night curiosity. Late night self pleasure when Eddie couldn’t be there with you.

You nod, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your hands need to be doing something as the anxiety reaches your throat. You swallow it down and gulp in nervousness as Eddie walks towards you. He takes his hand and caresses your face softly. His touch both exhilarating and comforting under the current circumstances. “You weren’t meant to see that.” You swallow the saliva collected in your mouth. “It’s just… porn. For when you’re not here and I- well you know the rest.” You speak so quietly that you could hear a pin drop in the room, the atmosphere was tense but he couldn’t seem more relaxed. Eddie’s smile beams, under the knowledge they were really your searches and you didn’t try and lie your way out of it.

“And are those the sorts of desires my princess has been having on those oh-so-lonely nights where she’s banished to stay in her castle?” He speaks in his dungeon master voice, running his index finger down your throat, smirking as he watches your throat gulp and the goosebumps appearing down your neck and arms. Your feet feel superglued to the floor, stuck in confrontation you can do nothing but stare at the carpet, looking your boyfriend in the eye seems alien in this moment.

“Yes. But don’t think you have to indulge me! If you’re not comfortable we never have to do any of that. I’ll never force you Eds.” You babble, worrying about every word in your speech sounding patronising or rude. You look up to him, doe-eyed with a hint of regret. He smiles, holding the back of your head softly. Cupping your chin with his finger he raises your head to meet him at eye level.

“Oh darling girl. How naive. I would move the heavens and earth for you. You’re asking me to fill both of your holes, let you call me daddy and worship my balls while they’re sweaty? It’s filthy. It’s a little taboo. Perverse maybe. Letting my girl worship me and being able to spoil both of her holes with pleasure? It’s a mere inconvenience, I mean you’re really gonna have to pay me back for this sweetheart you know.” Eddie jokes, speaking in his dungeon master voice again. Knowing that voice always flusters you, as if you needed to be any more flustered.

Staring at the floor, “So you’re okay with it?” You ask earnestly. “More than okay. In fact, come to think of it.. I haven’t showered yet today. Definitely haven’t shaved my balls in ummmm ever? How about you take that pretty face of yours down there and make your daddy feel good?” You needed no further encouragement, you’d already been hiding your arousal from the embarrassment of being found out about your kinks, humiliation being another one.

You unbuckled and shimmied off Eddie’s jeans, palming him through his boxers as he grunts your name and several curse words. He was hard as a rock already, and a small wet patch over his boxers where he’d begun to leak a bead of pre-cum. Instincts took after and you licked up the wet stripe of his underwear, vaguely tasting his salty fluid. With your face so close to his underwear clad genitals, you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent. The odour of sweat and pre-cum mixed together was your perfect aphrodisiac. Nestling your face into his hard on, you inhale all you can of him. Eddie slides off his boxers and takes his cock into his hand, jerking it slowly whilst looking down at you. You look up with ‘fuck me’ eyes and a cheeky smile, removing his hand from his length.

You lean upwards, placing your nose under his cock. His pubes tickle your nose as you lick circles over his fuzzy balls, swallowing the loose hairs that collect on your tongue. “Dirty fucking girl aren’t you? So gross.” Eddie mutters through his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. You smirk, all innocence leaving your body. You steady your hand on the tip of his cock as it begins to leak again, taking one of his balls into your mouth and suckling as if it was a pacifier. You speak as best as you can whilst sucking onto him. The noises you make aren’t translate-able, they’re more-so moans and groans. “Don’t speak with your mouthful angel.” Eddie coos, taking your hair into a ponytail and holding it behind your head. He forces his ball out of your mouth and guides your mouth onto his cock. “M’so close.” He grunts as he fucks your mouth, pulling you backwards and forwards onto his dick so far down your throat that you’re gagging. You slurp up the salvia that begins to dangle from his length. He comes undone in your mouth, emptying the fuzzing balls that were once in your mouth and you taste the liquid that you’ve had a hunger for. A rope of cum hangs from your lip and he wipes it up with his finger, before helping you swallow the last drop from sucking it up off of his finger.

“Thank you daddy.” You look up at Eddie with a shit-eating grin like butter wouldn’t melt. “My good little girl.” He responds, you mentally thank yourself for never clearing your search history. 🍆

#mine #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie the banished #eddie x fem reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #smut #smut one shot #gross!eddie #gross!eddie Munson #icky!eddie munson #gross!reader #kinky!eddie Munson #stranger things au

[indouloureux]

the freakshow

eddie munson x reader

summary: your heart dances on the edge of the knife when it comes to the infamous eddie munson. but the freak loves to play with knives at the freakshow, and he’s got you kneeling before him with his initials carved into your skin, bleeding down to his feet.

word count: 5, 962

warnings: Smut (MINORS DNI), usage of knives. graphic depictions of carving on to the skin. blood, violence, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. (explicit warnings below the cut)

a/n: another eddie smut. i was in the middle of writing a folklore one shot for mcu peter and i was eager to write this one. this includes knife play so please proceed with caution.

MASTERLIST

(follow @bloodstheink to get notified when i post)

explicit warnings: unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), knife play (carving names on their skin), creampie, lotus sex position, cockwarming, overstimulation, squirting, cum eating, blood sucking? (promise its not creepy), praise kink and degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics w dom!eddie, biting, tongue fucking, rough sex

Green, orange, red, white, black.

Freakish colors that juxtaposes the colors on your paper. You don’t know what you’re absentmindedly sketching, you hadn’t even realized your hands had begun constructing—

You tilt your head to the side, looking down and leaning closer.

— A cute little flower with green and orange petals, but apparently it also has red horns and a black tail right at the bottom of the strangely white stem.

Oh, and it looks like its dying.

The cafeteria is loud, you’ve barely touched your lunch, and your friends are talking loudly beside you. Very loudly, in fact, that you feel like your ears are going to explode and drip blood down to the side of your face. Agitated, you drop the pencils down the table, the clatter overwhelmed by vacuous parleys and childish shouting from food staining their clothes.

“Hey,” Chrissy Cunningham moves closer to you. Her hair’s no longer up in a tight ponytail, opted on a less compressed hairstyle that’s been giving her headaches lately. “You alright?”

You smooth your skirt with your palms, feeling the sweat transfer on the textile. “Yeah,” you swallow nothing. “It’s just really loud.”

“Need some fresh air?”

You’re about to answer her question, yes, you were going to say, yes, please, before I slam my head against this table. But the voice you’ve heard in so many timbres adjourns you, vocalizing loudly behind the cafeteria that it has you turning around.

Eddie’s got his feet on top of the table, walking over his friend’s lunches. He’s saying whatever; he’s saying things Eddie would say, because he is Eddie. He’s got his hands raised to balance himself on the decrepit tables, before he jumps off to scare a poor old teacher away.

That’s something Eddie would do.

And then he looks at you and suddenly you don’t want to slam your head against the table anymore, nor do your ears feel like they’re going to explode. Because you meet his eyes that are almost always on you – the same eyes that you can sense when he’s bored, or curious, or searching, or rapacious to tear the curtains between the audience and the freaks.

They’re also the same eyes that knows exactly who you are. They’ve got you memorized, every inch of your imperfectly pretty body, or what opens the faucet that leaks tears, or which performance made you smile the most; Wild eyes that memorized your labyrinthine self that anyone else couldn’t.

Your labyrinthine self, known only by Eddie – a rumored cult leader. He’s only the leader of Hellfire Club, anyway. But that does nothing to wipe the stain he’s put on his image, so if everyone else sees Eddie adding blemish to your reputation, or you to his, your picture might as well be burned to ashes.

He tells you it’ll spark havoc, that you’ll be seen in the same way as him.  You try so hard to tell him you don’t care. However, keeping things secret is so dangerously fun – an impious part of you the public believes is vain proved covertly by Eddie was a knowledge that’s thrilling enough to keep to yourself.

You see Eddie’s throat bob, and he ever so subtly smiles at you, because you know damn well seeing the freak smile at one of the most precious cheerleaders of Hawkins would be the most controversial of them all (it’s exaggerated, you and Eddie both know, but teenagers exaggerate everything, even though he’s twenty).

He suddenly then falls forward to the ground, almost hitting a passerby. For a brief moment your eyes widen in surprise, but see that no one was there to trip him, mainly it being for show just for you. Your heart eases, smiles at the boy who’s taking imaginary dust off his shaggy hair.

“(y/n),” Chrissy ducks her head down, gaining your attention. You forgot what she’s said, cheeks burning in discomfiture. “Do you need some fresh air?” she repeats.

Unable to answer, you nod instead, because you smile when you see the grin on Eddie’s face as he goes back to sitting down with his friends, knowing he’s succeeded once more to put a smile on your face.

He takes your exit as a sign to take his, too. You walk away until you reach the forests across the fences, holding your skirt down your thighs from the fresh breeze. When you spot the same bench you and Eddie normally hang out in at free periods, you sit there with a heavy sigh.

You name the rustling behind you as Eddie. You raise your head to see him, leather jacket and a sleeveless denim to cover his contentious shirt. He smiles at you, practically tossing his black lunchbox on the wooden table.

“Well, hello there,” he says this in a way that he’s almost singing it. Eddie sits in front of you and places his elbows on the table before resting his chin between his palms. “What are you doing here?”

“Just getting some fresh air,” you mimic his position with a greeting smile. “It smells like barf and mixed soft drinks inside there.”

“What, you don’t like mixed sodas?”

“Haven’t tried it,”

He gasps, anthemic that he almost falls to the ground. “Really?” Eddie queries in disbelief, picking a lone lint off your hair. You try not to shiver at his simple act. “Are you that compliant that you don’t try out different sodas at the same time?”

You snort. “I’m not that docile.”

“How come you’ve never tried it then?” Eddie smushes his lips on his palm, bent awkwardly but he still manages to talk to you while looking scruffily charming.

Taking the jersey off your arms, you shrug. “No one took me out to try it yet.”

“Well you, m’lady,” Eddie opens his lunchbox, the cover clanging loudly on the wooden table before he takes out a pack of cigarettes. You make an excited sound, taking one from him, “are missing out.”

He lights the cigarette from you. The lighter he uses is the same one you bought for him after dropping it down the sewers one time, one where he’s surprisingly fine about even though he’s had it for years. “They’re just sodas, Eds. Not water. I won’t die if I don’t try them.”

“But you should,” he says after lighting his own. “They taste, I don’t know, funky? I can’t explain it. The aftertaste’s kinda shit, though, I’ll tell you that.”

Your lipstick stains the tipping paper, disparities the red wax brazenly. And while the smoke mingles with the air, you toy with the coffin nail nervously. Eddie, like earlier, senses your disquiet. He walks over to where you are before he wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently tugging you closer to him. You let him even though the possibility of being caught was now 73%.

“Something’s keeping you on edge since this morning,” he murmurs. He fights the urge to press a kiss on your hairline, instead occupies his twitching mouth with a cigarette. “I know you think I noticed at lunch, but we got morning classes together and I know when you’re nervous.”

“It’s nothing, Eds,”

“No it’s not,” he pushes your hair out of your face until he’s cupping the back of your head to look at him, stroking the skin behind your ear. “What is it, sweetheart, tell me?”

Yesterday’s expedition clouds your mind – in Eddie’s car, splayed out in the back with your hand gripping the back of your thighs as Eddie drives his cock in deeper, and even after cumming inside you he pushes his fingers in your sensitive hole and bullies your clit until you gush out on his shirt and his face and maybe even your own, without realizing that one of the Hawkins basketball players passed by.

“I think Patrick McKinney saw us yesterday,” you tell him. “He- I don’t know, Eddie. He passed by. I don’t think he saw us but I think he heard us? I mean, not that I care. It’s just that, I think maybe I care a little because he might have caught us having sex? He saw me naked and saw you naked and he might have seen the-the thing—”

“Hey,” he stops you by placing a hand over your mouth, laughing a little. “You gotta relax. My windows are tinted, babe. He didn’t see us, and if he heard us, he probably just assumed I was with another girl.”

The image of Eddie with someone else has you shifting uncomfortably between two feet, eventually scoffing and taking a hit. “If you think saying that is helping, Eddie—”

He laughs again, like music to your ears. “I’m sorry, babe,” Eddie kisses your temple, a mitigating action that shoves your worries away. “All I’m saying is that he didn’t catch us, okay? We’re fine.”

You pick on the loose thread of his shirt, twirling it around your finger. Then you pull it, a loud snap followed by shy silence. “‘s being a dungeon master give you senses?” you look up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. Eddie’s hair tickles your nose, and you swear you smell a hint of your conditioner in there. “You always know when I’m upset.”

“Boyfriend senses, yeah, they’re my special senses,” he taps his temple, looking at you with a small smile. “They’re a must have. A really great superpower. Means I can make you smile whenever you need to.”

Pouting, you nestle your head on his chest. “Nah, I think you’re just stalking me. Always following me whenever I go, staring like a creep.”

Eddie’s freakishly warm. And albeit his veneer says otherwise, he smells decent, too – laundry detergent, cigarettes, and the smell of his club room that you can’t explain (you think it’s cardboard?). Your joke earns you a slight push, and a shy laugh, before you’re right back in his arms, tighter than before.

“Not my fault, you freak,” you simultaneously take a hit, something you try to hide your laugh about. Eddie teasingly blows it at your face. “Walking around with that short little skirt of yours—”

—The hand on your shoulder caresses your back until it starts tracing the waistline of your skirt. His finger draws back and forth, occasionally untucking your shirt until he feels your skin. Eddie’s stroking finger tickles, until it ultimately slips inside the garter of your skirt, teasing the waistband of your underwear.—

“—swaying your hips like you’re still dancing, knowing those prepubescent virgins and dirty boys are watching you,” Eddie whispers in your ear. “Knowing I’m watching you. And you just love teasing me, don’t you?”

You playfully bump your hip with his. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean,” he takes both your cigarettes and throws it to the ground, stomping it impatiently before he’s got his hands around your waist, groveling beneath your shirt to palm your skin. “You don’t have to play coy, baby.”

Eddie kisses you, fervent and avidly. His hands roam everywhere, handsy with each caress, rings cold against your skin that you shiver beneath him as you run your hands up his unshorn hair, pushing his bangs away from his forehead. And while his tongue casually slips in between your open mouths, he cups your ass, quite roughly.

Gasping, you break away. “Eddie,” you chuckle nervously. “Someone could come! Lunch ends in five minutes.”

“Yeah, I know,” he steals a kiss, one or two, with heavy exhales and hands gentle on your cheeks. “But I know you hate your next class and so do I,”

“We share that class and you only hate it,” he can’t stop kissing you in between words. Eddie kisses the tip of your nose before going back to kiss your cheeks, and your neck, your jawline. “Eds, we’re going to miss class,”

He sucks on your neck, right on the slope between your jawline and shoulder. The urticate sensation renders you a whimper, before you feel his hot tongue caress the result of his ambush. “Then let’s skip it,” Eddie suggests, repeating each suckle on every part of your neck. “I got the keys to the room of the club. We can – we can go there and do whatever we want.”

Answer interrupted by a hungry kiss, you bite on his bottom lip, clawing desperately on his shirt. Eddie grunts, smiling against your swollen lips. “Anything?” you whisper. “Even – even if it’s dangerous?”

“You know I love doing anything dangerous, sweets,” he scrunches his nose at you. “Which is why I love doing you,”

In less than ten minutes were you both able to venture on to the Hellfire Club room. His feet were quick – fast enough to form you both invisible to wandering teachers. Eddie’s hand never left yours, a tight grip that tells you not to let go or else you’ll get caught. And that same, riveting sensation pounds through you – breaking the rules for the man who loved to break you. It’s wildly injudicious, but it fills your sybaritic grail.

Eddie fumbles with the keys before he’s got the room opened. You’re greeted by tall cardboard effigies that intensify the aura of the Hellfire Club, cutouts of certain DnD creatures held up by stolen scaffolding. It’s gloomy, eerily fun to be surrounded by drawn mythical brutes, and it welcomes you in the same way Eddie did.

“Welcome, to the dungeon,” he opens the door and steps aside to let you in, a hovering hand behind you while his eyes scan for any bystander. Eddie closes the door once you step in, the faint lock tickles your ear in the right way.

Then he’s back to kissing you. You push his jackets away, feel your back dig on the edge of the table that he keeps pushing you on from how eager he is. His open mouthed kisses are hot, hungry for the taste of you, prodding his tongue in to search for more flavors. You feel the denim of his jeans, tugging on the cold chain and slip your nails between the pits, until you reach behind to slip your fingers in his pockets.

Eddie cups your face, digs his rings on your skin. He tilts your head to the side to embark deeper, exhaling into your mouth. “Baby,” he murmurs when you clutch his ass. “Easy there,”

“I want to – I wanna try something new,” you smile against him.

Usually, Eddie’s always the one who asks to try something new with you – being the person he is who’s got more kinks and experience, diving deeper into expeditions so risqué no one else can fathom. And he’s the one who dilapidated your chastity, where he’s thankful for your trust being bestowed upon him; he’s gradually introducing new idiosyncrasies to make your sex life more…fun and adventurous.

So when you’re the first to ask, it takes him aback. But Eddie doesn’t complain because he loved being surprised by you. “Yeah sure, what is it?”

You take the pocket knife from his pocket, breaking the kiss away to place the armament in the space between your faces. Eddie’s smile fades a little into confusion, chuckling. He takes it from your hand.

“I want you,” with a hand on his shoulder, you raise your leg to rest on his hip, curling it around him to let your heel push his crotch closer to yours. Your unoccupied hand delineate his neck, reaching up to abrade his scalp. You give him a gentle nip at his earlobe, one that makes your boyfriend moan quietly, his other hand under your shirt, “to fuck me with the handle of your knife.”

“Jesus, baby,” he breathes out. “That’s dangerous,”

“But I thought you love doing anything dangerous?”

“Yeah I know,” he presses a small kiss on your cheek, grinding his erect crotch on yours. It’s hard enough that it massages your clit right through the thin fabric of your underwear. “But this is a knife baby. God, even I imagine doing things to you with this, but I don’t want to fucking hurt you.”

“Tell me, then,” you palm him through his jeans, scrape the on the hard-on. “What you want to do with me.”

Eddie tugs on your hair, continues sucking on your neck like he wants to drink your blood. You moan when he does so, the pain ricocheting down your throbbing cunt as he says, “Maybe I’d do what you want, fuck you with the handle, then I’d – I’d carve my initials on your thigh, so it’ll scar there forever and I’d let those insubstantial little shits know you’re mine. I’ll suck the blood on it, too, then finger your pussy raw until you squirt all over me again.”

He grinds the closed pocket knife on your pussy, making you even wetter than earlier. “Then I’d let you carve yours on my thigh, I’d let you do whatever you want with it. God, then you’d fucking suck me off like the good little whore you are – on your knees, crying and begging for me to fuck your face while your blood drips down the floor. Then I’d fuck you so good you can’t dance for the pep rally next week, baby.”

“Then do it,” you whine, grinding harder on his knife. “Come on, Eddie. Baby, please.”

“You sure I won’t hurt you?”

“Remember when they dropped me during practice, and I fell on my foot and I broke my ankle?” he nods, head nestling into the crook of your neck to place tormenting hickies on your neck. “Have you seen me cry? I was laughing, Eddie. It didn’t hurt at all, even when they popped my ankle right into place.”

He pulls away, cupping your face and squishing your cheeks together, because Eddie thinks you look cute like that. “You cried a bit when they snapped in place, though.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t hurt,” you giggle. “Please, babe?”

“Alright,” he kisses you once more. “Tell me to stop, okay? Three taps where?”

“On your cheek. Hard.”

“That’s right,”

You’re kissing again, his hands roaming to discard your jacket to the ground where you’d thrown his. He pulls back to pull his shirt away, and you copy him, removing your skirt with and placing it on the table behind you. When you’re left in your bra, Eddie pulls back to stare at them, goggling stupidly.

“Eds,” you push his face away, palm right on his nose. “Stop staring at my boobs like an infant.”

“Yeah yeah,” he shakes his head. Eddie’s lips lather themselves on your exposed skin, sucking on your upper breasts. He flips his knife open, the tip of the knife tracing your arm first.

It’s small, but it’s sharp enough to leave a red scratch, or dangerously penetrate your skin. The steel alloy shines from the light at the back of the room, mercurially glistening all its dauntless silver prowess. The feeling is cold, as cold as Eddie’s rings, as they trail up to the strap on your left shoulder.

Your wild, lust-driven eyes has him foible, knees buckling from how they still look innocent even as you’re about to approach an occurrence that’s so unholy. Eddie bends a little, smiling up at you. And you smile back, because he looks so pretty it’s insane.

He distracts you when he sucks hard on the valley of your breasts when his knife cuts the delicate strap. You gasp when he does so, feeling the split lace drop down to your shoulder. Eddie then guides the knife to the center, dipping the knife beneath where the spine presses on your skin, the edge pushing up to cut your bra in between.

“Shit,” he pulls the other strap down, throwing it to the ground. “Tits always so pretty, babe. Could stare at them for the rest of my life.”

The bevel of his knife rests on your thigh as Eddie takes his time to suck on your nipples. You moan, squirming when he suckles hard. He bites on the pebbled buds, treats the right tit with the same pressure. You whimper when he doesn’t stop doing this, the feeling of someone hearing excites you more than it scared you yesterday.

He breaks away when he’s pleased enough. Eddie kisses up to your swollen lips, unsynchronized kisses from the heavy breathing you both emit.

Eddie flips the knife so he’s holding the blade, the handle drawing down to your inner thigh. His left hand pushes your underwear to the side, handle tracing your wet cunt. You moan against his lips, eyebrows furrowing at the unusual feeling.

He teasingly penetrates your hole, chuckling when you buck your hips closer. “You want me to push it in?”

“Fuck me with it,” you groan. “C’mon, baby. Do it,”

And he does. He slowly pushes the handle in, the shape uncomfortable, but makes you feel half-full. The cold steel makes you buck your hips a bit, makes Eddie stay still as he waits for you to become comfortable. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You nod. “Yeah,” Eddie kneels to press a kiss on your navel. “Fuck me now, please.”

“Alright, baby,” he kisses your inner thigh, a mark where he’s going to carve his initials later. Eddie begins to thrust it in your squelching cunt, the sound better than all the metal that blasts his ears to deafness. The ridges press on your walls, every thrust melts your un-comfort into a grotty bliss.

The other hand rubs figure-eight on your clit, switches between hard pressures and a feather-light touch. It drives you insane because he’s not using his tongue, instead lets it lick his famished mouth. You throw your head back, knees buckling from the lack of leverage. Your hands leave the table to run through Eddie’s wild curls, tugging in a way that makes him moan.

“Fuck, Eddie,”

“Yeah, you like that?” he bites on your thigh, spreads them apart by placing the left leg on his shoulder. “Filthy girl. Hawkins precious cheerleader’s into knives? Letting their precious freak fuck her greedy pussy with the handle, huh?”

You nod, pushing his head closer though he doesn’t do anything. Eddie can smell your arousal from the close proximity, thrusts the handle faster and deeper into your cunt until it stops at the flipper.

“Close,” your hand goes to his wrist, making him pull the handle out. “Want-want you to carve it, now. Then fuck me with your fingers, please.”

Eddie smiles. “You’re nice today, baby. Love your manners.” He nips at your skin. “You’re not a brat like the usual. But I do love it when you’re being demanding sometimes.”

He lifts you to sit on the table, pushing your legs apart until it can no longer move. Eddie licks the arousal off the handle before wiping it on his jeans, flipping it so he’s holding the handle again, tapping the tip on your inner thigh. You shiver in excitement.

“It’s gonna hurt, okay? Like, a lot,” he keeps on pressing kisses on the spot he’s going to use, like he thinks it would be his own anesthesia. “Are you really sure about this?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, breathing heavily. “Dude, just push it in!”

“Don’t call me dude,” he tuts. “Anything but dude.”

“Okay, freak,”

You don’t let the moan from him go unteased. Quietly gasping, you look down at him with wide eyes. Eddie shyly hides his face on your thigh, shaking his head preciously.

“You like that?”

“Don’t – No I don’t.”

“Babe, you moaned.”

“You’re gonna make fun of me,” he squints his eyes at you. “Now shut up or I’m carving a penis on your thigh.”

He taps the tip. One, two, three for good measure before he gently pushes it in. You feel the excruciating phenomenon of the knife delve minimally inside your inner thigh, the alloy lodged in between what's the skin and flesh. The pain pulsates through you like a deafening bass, maims your thigh to throb until it creates tears that sting your eyes. It’s a slim penetration, barely a centimeter in, but it splits your skin open until blood percolates. You hiss, cry quietly when Eddie begins moving.

“I got you baby,” he sits up and crashes his lips on yours, wiping your tear away. Eddie pulls away to kiss each of your cheeks, repetitively, knife moving ever so slowly to shape his name. “You alright? Does it hurt? We can stop.”

“I can handle it,” you push his shoulders down until he kneels again. Eddie’s eyes tear away from yours, flitting to the wound he’s creating on your thigh. The touch of his unoccupied hand is utterly emollient, thumb caressing your skin in hopes to numb the pain away, because his lenient strokes are nothing compared to the blade’s puncture.

He’s on his first line, and he’s got six left. When Eddie starts on the second, he coaxes you through by muttering sweet nothings against your sweating skin. The blood drips down on the table, fraternizes with the arousal you leaked earlier. He licks the blood up, the feeling of his tongue on your tongue painfully gratifying.

“Ah-…shit,” you exhale. The pain withers into nothingness, a dull adulation to Eddie’s success in relaxing you to his cuts. Putting his dexterity into use, Eddie uses his left hand to trace your hole, still leaking of arousal, and pushes it inside your swell cunt.

“Still wet, baby? Even after I cut you?” He’s on his third line, while pushing two fingers inside your cunt as he does it. You moan lowly, running a hand through his tangled hair, pushing the lone strands away from his forehead.

His fingers go fast inside you, not stopping even when you’d coated his slender fingers with your pearlescent seed. It’s gotten to the point that your pussy makes obscenely wet sounds loud enough to be heard outside the room. Eddie’s lapping up the blood that’s leaking from your thigh, finger fucks you until he’s on his last two lines.

Unstoppable fingers make you moan. His rings glim brighter than they used to, probably in need of deep washing as it is now stained with your juices. They curl inside you just in the right way, galvanizing your g-spot evermore. The puddle beneath you turns into a pretty shade of pink as your cum mingles with the dripping blood.

“Faster,”

And he obeys. With the knife moving slowly, his left moves fast – unfathomably fast – arm shaking from the exuberant libido his fingers perform. You let out a long, loud moan, until it breaks into high-pitched whines and short moans, lower abdomen burning white until you begin spurting out liquids like yesterday, gushing everywhere that it stains your wound.

Eddie pulls his lips away from your thigh and sucks on your clit, tongue lapping on your gushing juices like a cat. He pulls his fingers away, dipping his tongue inside your contracting hole before he removes it.

“Shit,” his fingers spread your labia open, “sweets, you’re all swollen. Your cum’s fucking leaking on the table. God, looks so fucking filthy.”

“You like filthy,” you pull on his hair. Eddie moves upwards, presses a harsh kiss against your lips as he finishes the letter M. “You fucking love filthy.”

He bends down and with one last suckle on your wound, the initials E.M. enrich your skin in a grotesquely exquisite mien. The corners painted with dried blood and his saliva, maybe a bit of your arousal. Eddie plants one last, chaste kiss on your wound before he comes up to kiss you.

You take the knife from him when Eddie pulls away to suck the cum off his fingers.

Pushing him away, you tug on his jeans, almost ripping it off. Eddie helps you and discards them, bringing his boxers with so now you’re both standing in front of each other with his cock erect and swell on his stomach. You push Eddie until his back hits the edge of the table, and you exuberantly kneel in front of him.

You don’t suck his cock yet – you relish the sight in front of you with a dumb slacked jaw. Eddie looks down at you, thrust his hips until his tip disappears in your mouth.

“Keep my cock warm for me, would you? While you cut me up?” he cups your face between his thumb and fingers. Eddie pulls his cock away, purses his lips before he spits in your mouth. “Keep it in your mouth like a good slut.”

Filthy benevolence driven by the ascendancy of Eddie, you suck on his cock for a while. You jerk him off with your left hand, enclosing your cheeks around his thick girth, head gagging you when it hits the back of your throat.

It draws a hearty groan from the man above you, loud and deep. It turns you on, makes you really wet that it stings worse than your cut. Eddie fucks your face before you stay pliant, and position the knife on top of his thigh.

The sight of the knife digging into skin is more grotesque than it felt. Like painting crimson on a plain canvas when his flesh cleaves open and exposes his thick fluid. The perfidious knife draws the first pattern of your initial, and Eddie hisses above you. 

He thrusts deeper that your nose grazes the curls on top of his cock. You gag around him, feeling your saliva drip down your neck to your naked body, his irate head filling your throat.

Eddie’s blood smears on his opalescent skin, your initials carved smaller than his because you’re afraid of stabbing his thigh. His hand cups your cheeks, rubbing the tears away with a drunken smile.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” your other hand fondles with his balls. It makes Eddie throw his head back with a loud moan. “Think you can move while carving?”

You nod eagerly against his cock. You relax your jaw and begin moving your mouth around him, eyes flitting between his heavy, dazed eyes and the knife that jabs on his skin.

The initials are nearly done, bobbing your head faster. With your left hand jerking his cock and twisting, you take gradual sucks on his head to his shaft, popping away to lick his balls to his head, feeling his vein on your thick muscle before you lick his slit.

Eddie moans, meeting your bobs with yearning thrusts. He’s fucking your face like you both wanted. “Fuck, that’s it baby. So good. Doing so fucking good. You enjoy my cock?”

He’s unpleased when you merely nod. Eddie pulls on your hair. “Answers, baby,” he demands.

“Yes,” you gasp. “I love your big fucking cock, Eddie.” You lick his tip, twisting your tongue around the helmet. “Love how big it is it can’t even fit in this fucking mouth, baby.”

He lets you go and pushes his cock deeper in your mouth. “Yeah, so fucking greedy,” Eddie grunts.

Even with your initials done, you don’t stop sucking his dick. You suck the life out of it, twitching cock heralds the forthcoming of his orgasm. You nibble at every ridge of his veins before you lick everywhere on his cock.

Placing the knife on the table behind him to pull away from his twitching dick and suck on the blood oozing on the uneven slit. You lick up every last drop of his blood, and trail your way upwards with small kisses like remedies to the painful cut. You treat his body the same way he treats yours – leaving love bites across his alabaster skin.

Eddie kisses your cheek, then your neck. “Good girl. Good, good girl, baby.”

He sits down on the table, grasping at your waist and urges you to sit on him. You grind on his hard cock, shaft wet with your saliva that now amalgamates with your arousal and cum from earlier. You both moan, stupidly loud, as Eddie helps you rest your knees on either side of his thighs on top of the table.

“You’re so beautiful,” he declares against your lips. “So, so pretty, sweetheart. Gonna ride my cock now?”

“Please,” you grip his cock tight in your burning hand, raising to position his head until you sink down.

His bare cock stretches your overstimulated pussy. Eddie’s cock buried deep inside your cunt becomes the last segment of the freakshow, your light bounces emitting skin slapping that is the invisible crowd’s applaud. Skin on skin, wound to wound does it feel heavenly to be fucked raw by his cock that you both know is yours, and your pussy warming his known to be owned by Eddie.

Blood mingled with unjust arousal banes your wounds. You wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck, nails scratching his back while his portray nipple clamps as they unbearably fondle with your breasts. You ride his cock out of its strength, pushing each bulging vein on your tight walls.

“Pussy’s so fucking tight,” he laughs out, biting your shoulder. “Fucking snug around my cock, baby, ‘s like you were made for me,”

And you were. You apprentice on every crime; on every pornographic show. Immodesty fulfilled by the blood spilt on the table that fuses with your arousals. You bounce on him, draw up until his head’s all that’s left inside you, before you drop down on his cock again.

You scratch on his biceps with ludicrous moans. Eddie’s fingers reach down between you to rub your clit, spitting salacious words in your ear he’s sure he’d burn in hellfire for. “Look at you, doing all the work. You earned this, baby, letting me carve my name on your thigh. Because you love being owned by me, don’t you. Fuck yeah, you do.”

You grind and you bounce, a hand behind you to stabilize your back. With a hand around his neck and the other behind you on top of his knee, Eddie forms as your chair as you lean back to drive his cock deeper inside your cunt.

You feel your orgasm drive again, like roses thrown at your feet as the applauding gets louder. Eddie lets out whines and moans, smiles when you repeat the same broken, high-pitched whimpers. “I’m close, baby.”

Eddie pushes your chest to him, his right hand caressing your wound. You hug your arms around your boyfriend, grinding slowing down as he begins thrusting upwards to make up from the fucking that wore you out.

He moans out loud, face scrunched into a rhapsodic culmination.

A few thrusts left, five slams on your spot and you’re spilling all over his cock. Eddie spurts his ropes inside you, sees his head bulge on your navel. His hand guides yours to press on the head that’s seen. He thrusts upward, swallowing your moan with an open-mouthed kiss.

“Tired?” Eddie kisses the space between your eyebrows. You pant heavily, resting your cheek on his sweaty chest.

“Super,” you chuckle. “Super fucking worn out, baby.”

“Alright sweetheart,” he lifts you up, sits you down on the table. Eddie wraps your legs around his waist, and he hugs you, tightly, like he’s afraid of letting you go.

“You know, this’ll be a sexy scar,” you trace your carving on his thigh. “Really fucking hot. But I’m worried if we broke up and you meet someone knew, she’s gonna see these and she’s going to wonder who’s initials are those.”

You trace the tattoo bats on his arm. Eddie presses a kiss on your hairline, running a hand through your damp hair. “We’re not gonna break up. I love you too much.”

“I love you, too.”

“And if we do, I’ll just tattoo a penis over this one with like, bats around it.”

It earns him a smack on the chest.

banner by @/lauras-collection

#eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things four #hellfire club #eddie 'the freak' munson #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #indouloureux's writing #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction

[nicostiel]

these two keep getting gayer and gayer with each other. that’s it, that’s the post.

#sorry for low quality 😭 #strangerthingsedit #stranger things #joseph quinn #jamie campbell bower #eddie munson #vecna #st 4 #stranger things 4 #st #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things season 4 #*myedits

[stevesbipanic]

Maya Hawke insisting Robin be a lesbian instead of just a rebound love interest for Steve. Joseph Quinn playing Eddie as someone who's clearly got a crush on Steve. Caleb and Noah giving such raw emotions in their characters. A big thank you to all the actors making their characters better than anything the writers could do.

#all the improved lines we stan #steddie #ronance #stranger things #stranger things s4 #st4 #eddie munson #steve harrington #steveddie #eddie munson stranger things #eddie the freak munson #stranger things season 4 #maya hawke #joseph quinn #noah schnapp #caleb mclaughlin #will byers #robin buckley #lucas sinclair

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

[steddiealltheway]

(A special post for my dear friend Cass @henderdads who is celebrating 10k followers 🫶💛 can’t wait to celebrate more milestones with you 🥳)

Eddie watches the follower count on the Corroded Coffin TikTok rise every time he refreshes their page as the rest of the band looks over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe your bat song is going to bring us to ten thousand followers. Considering it’s about-”

“Shut up,” Eddie cuts him off, refreshing the page again.

“Seriously though,” Grant says, pointing at the follower count, “We’re going to hit ten thousand pretty soon.”

“Which is a big milestone for us,” Jeff adds before circling in front of where everyone in staring at Eddie phone. “Shouldn’t we celebrate or something?”

All the boys pause for a moment, and Eddie can feel them all staring at him, waiting for some type of creative revelation as if he can just come up with something on the spot like... “I have an idea.”

Gareth and Grant high five as Eddie jumps up and points at Jeff. “Go get some lame confetti party poppers and a cheesy celebration cake.” He turns to Gareth and Grant and points at them. “You guys need to find out how to put our follower count on a laptop or something while I set up my room so we can do a livestream on Tiktok in there.”

“We’ve never done a livestream.”

“Exactly!” Eddie says clapping his hands excitedly, “That’s what will grab people’s attention and boost our follower count. We’ll tell them that follower ten thousand will get a special private video from us or something. I don’t know. Whatever they want!”

“What if they ask us to strip?” Grant asks.

Jeff sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder. “No one is going to ask you to strip, dude.”

“You never know!”

Eddie just laughs as he rushes off to his room.

“Wait!” Jeff yells after him.

Eddie pauses and turns around.

“What money am I using to by this stuff?”

Eddie sighs and digs his wallet out of his pocket, pulling out two twenties and handing them over. “If this doesn’t cover it, you’ve done something wrong.”

Jeff smiles widely before running out the door yelling, “I’m gonna spend all of it!”

Eddie doesn’t even care about his money going down the drain, he’s too excited about reaching ten thousand and being able to call Wayne about it. For now, it’s time to seriously do some work to his room in order to make it somewhat presentable…

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie adjusts the camera stand and the ring light he bought for their videos that he gets constantly made fun of for buying. But the guys can’t deny how much better their videos look, so he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Jeff, give me your phone.”

Jeff hands his phone over but whines, “Why my phone?”

“Because you have the best camera,” Eddie explains, setting it up and going to their tiktok page. The numbers are quickly climbing through the nine thousands, and at this rate, they’ll definitely hit 10k during the livestream.

Once everything is prepared, Eddie asks, “Ready?”

Everyone nods and Eddie starts the livestream. He waves at the camera and watches the view count grow quickly. “Oh wow. Hi everyone. We haven’t done this before, so sorry for anything weird that may happen or when Grant inevitably says something dumb.”

Eddie gets a smack on the back of the head as Grant says, “Hey!” Jeff and Gareth just look at each other knowingly and laugh.

Eddie half winces and smiles as he rubs the back of his head and reads the comments asking about the numbers on the computer. “Oh shit. Yeah! Oh wait, I don’t think I should’ve sworn. Oops. Uh, anyways!” He takes a deep breath and gestures to the computer screen. “So, this the whole reason for our livestream. We’re about to hit ten thousand followers-”

“Thanks to you guys!” Gareth interjects.

“Yes, thank you guys. Really. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you,” Eddie says sincerely, laying his hands over his heart. “And we thought that we’d do something special for our ten thousandth follower. Maybe send them a video of us doing a cover of their favorite song or something. We don’t know! Whoever it is, you get to choose.”

“But you can’t make us strip!” Grant yells.

Eddie runs a hand over his face before gesturing dramatically toward Grant. “And this is what I meant when I said Grant would inevitably say something dumb.”

Gareth and Jeff just laugh as Grant turns red. Eddie turns around and pats him on the shoulder. “You know we love you.”

“Yeah, because you would suck without me.”

Eddie turns around and looks at the camera. “That’s absolutely true.” He looks at the comments and notices people asking them questions about when they’re releasing another song and if they’re planning on touring anywhere soon.

Jeff leans over squinting and says, “Oh! Our next song is called Hellfire Rains!”

Gareth looks at him slowly and asks, “Dude, are we allowed to say that?”

Eddie puts his head in his hands. This is absolutely a disaster, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Eddie’s head pops back up. “We could do something even worse and give them a sample of it.”

He sees the comment section flood a bit with affirmations of YES PLEASE. I BEG OF YOU.

Eddie turns to the guys and shrugs. “Are you guys good if I play a weird acoustic version of it?”

All the guys shrug and nod until Jeff stops to say. “Wait, what if we hit ten thousand during that?”

“Then, you guys stop me and we look at the follower,” Eddie replies.

Jeff nods and says, “Okay, but what if I told you we’re only nine followers away from ten thousand?”

“What?!” The rest of the boys yell and turn to the computer, noticing the numbers going up.

Eddie scrambles to grab his phone and go to their page, refreshing their notifications to grab the name of the ten thousandth person. He quickly looks at the camera and says, “Okay guys, I’ll give you that cover after we hit this milestone and freak out.” He refreshes the page and grabs Gareth’s shoulder. “Wait, do you have the party poppers?”

“Shit!” He yells running to the plastic Walmart bag and digging through it, handing them to everyone.

“It’s about to happen guys!” Jeff yells.

Eddie’s heart thuds in his chest as he refreshes the page over and over.

“Holy shit!” Grant yells first as Gareth and Jeff yell to celebrate. Eddie glances at the screen showing 10,000 and laughs as everyone pulls their confetti party poppers. He turns back and refreshes the page.

He freezes.

“Eddie, man, who is the lucky person?” Jeff asks excitedly.

Eddie looks at them with wide eyes.

“What?” Gareth asks.

Eddie looks back at the name and presses on the profile, noticing their mutual followers confirming that it’s a legit account. “Oh my god.”

The guys all rush around his phone and stare at the page.

Gareth shrieks with laughter. “Holy shit! Steve Harrington? The same infamous Steve who your bat song is about?”

“The same infamous Steve who you had a horrible crush on in high school but could never get the courage to talk to him?” Jeff adds with a laugh.

“I talked to him once,” Eddie grumbles out running his hands over his face. This cannot be happening.

Gareth laughs loudly and says, “Let me recall it.” He turns to Jeff and acts like he gets flustered as he says, “Uh. Steve. Steve Harrington. You’re. Hi. Yeah. You. Uh. So Dustin and you. That’s cool. I. Well. Good seeing you!” Gareth then turns to run away quickly.

Jeff laughs loudly as Grant says, “Uh, guys?”

Eddie shakes his head as Gareth and Jeff ignore Grant to laugh about it until Grant yells, “Guys!”

They all look at him and notice him staring off. Eddie realizes that he’s staring at Jeff’s phone…which is still streaming.

They all seem to realize it at once and freak out. “Turn it off! Turn it off! End it!” Eddie yells as Grant drops the phone and Jeff scrambles to end the livestream.

They all pause and slowly look at Eddie who breathes out, “What are the chances that Steve wasn’t on that livestream and that everyone will forget about this?”

The rest of the boys slowly turn to look at each other with grim looks on their face.

“Oh no,” Eddie says burying his face in his hands. This is not going to be good.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Sure enough, the next day, there’s a viral TikTok going around of the movement that someone had screen recorded, and Eddie’s phone is spammed with texts from Dustin, annoyed at Eddie for never telling him about his pathetic crush on his babysitter.

Eddie ignores it and his friends attempt to drown out his sorrow with cake and platitudes of, “Hey, we’re actually gaining a lot of followers from this.”

Eddie just groans and buries his face in his bed. This cannot be happening.

“We did promise that we’d give our ten thousandth follower something special,” Jeff says. “So we still need to follow through with that.”

Eddie sighs, “I’m not going to message him.”

“Then I’m going to message him from our account and pretend to be you,” Jeff says.

As Gareth and Jeff encourage him, Eddie slowly sits up and says, “No. No. I’ll do it.” He begrudgingly reaches over and grabs his phone.

“And while you’re at it, people are complaining about you not doing that short cover so…” Gareth trails off as Eddie shoots him a glare.

“Okay, well we’re going to go pick up some food and give you some space so you don’t kill us,” Jeff says while grabbing Grant and Gareth and dragging them away.

“Thank you!” Eddie yells after them.

“But you’re not getting food unless you’ve sent him a message!” Jeff yells before closing the front door.

Eddie sighs and takes a deep breath before he glances at this phone, ignoring all the text notifications from Dustin, but he becomes curious about the text from a number he doesn’t have saved. He clicks on it.

As your 10,000th follower, do I still get to request something?

This is Steve Harrington by the way

Eddie nearly throws his phone but swipes to Dustin’s texts instead typing out, YOU GAVE STEVE MY NUMBER????

He scrolls through the dozens of texts, noticing a sequence of important texts he missed.

can i give steve your number? he’s asking me for it

eddie i swear he’s not mad or anything

okay i can’t promise that but it didn’t sound like he was mad

eddieeeee

eddie stop ignoring me

if you don’t respond im going to send your number

okay

im sending it

if anything happens i expect to be the first to know!!! don’t make me find out from a tiktok ever again

Eddie takes a deep breath and reasons that at least now he knows the number is legitimate. He opens the texts from Steve and stares at them. There’s no way he can text him.

And for some reason, he immediately decides to call him with is arguably a thousand times worse, but before he can hang up, Steve already answers with a, “Hello?”

Eddie swallows and tries to remember how to speak. “Hi,” he croaks out before clearing his throat and trying again, “Shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve says, sounding amused.

Eddie sighs and lays back on his bed. “So, what are the chances that you weren’t on the live stream and you didn’t see that video?”

“Zero.”

Eddie groans. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t checked TikTok yet, but have people found you and flooded your notifications?”

“Uh…” Steve trails off, sounding hesitant to answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes. God, I’m so stupid. I just completely forgot the livestream was going or I never would’ve dragged you into this mess.”

Steve pauses and asks, “And what if I told you that I’m glad you forgot it was still on?”

Eddie sits up. “What?”

“What if…” Steve pauses and Eddie hears rustling on his end as if he’s anxiously twisting around. “What if I told you that I know what I want as your ten thousandth follower.”

“To punch me?”

Steve laughs, and Eddie tries as hard as he can not to latch onto the noise. “To ask you on a date.”

Eddie freezes in shock. Yeah, this isn’t happening.

“Eddie? Are you still there?”

“Yup, still here,” Eddie manages to breathe out. He pauses before asking, “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, “I kind of had a big crush on you in high school, too. And I may have redownloaded TikTok when I heard about your live stream.”

“No way,” Eddie calls him out.

“Yes way. You should ask my best friend Robin. She saw the live stream and timed the follow perfectly for me. Plus, she’s suffered through my crush on you and has always been mad at me for never doing anything about it.”

Eddie can’t believe it. “Steve, can you FaceTime me right now?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah.”

Eddie clicks on the FaceTime button and waits until Steve’s face appears on the screen, further confirming it’s him and further freaking him out. Gosh, he hasn’t seen him in a while and he’s almost forgotten how gorgeous he is.

“Hey,” Steve says with a smile.

Eddie wants to melt into a pile of goo. “Hi.” He pauses for a second, getting a bit lost in seeing Steve’s smiling face on his phone. Then he remembers, “Oh! Okay, tell me again. But look me in the eye so I know you’re not lying.”

Steve chuckles and asks, “Eddie Munson, my secret high school crush, will you go on a date with me and fulfill the promise you made to all your followers?”

Eddie smiles and says, “Yes.”

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few days later, Eddie posts an update on the Corroded Coffin TikTok with a video of him singing a sneak peak of their new song then glancing off camera to ask, “Does my ten thousandth follower like it?”

Off camera, there’s a voice that sounds exasperated as they say, “How many times are you going to call me that instead of your boyfriend?”

Eddie puts his guitar down and rushes off camera quickly with a smile, but then the voice asks, “Did you end the video?”

Eddie pauses before saying, “No.”

“This is going to be a lasting issue isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Eddie confesses.

Then, the mystery man appears in the shot, revealing Steve’s smiling face before he ends the video.

Once again, the video ends up going viral, and soon enough, Eddie is celebrating 50k with all the band members along with Steve (and Dustin who is very mad to find out about their relationship via the second TikTok). But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #corroded coffin #jeff stranger things #gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #aka Grant

[rottenaero]

Interviewer Steve Harrington who gets decked in the face by a particularly drunk and rude person halfway through an event, and can’t fight back because it could ruin the company name or whatever, but he still needs to meet his quota, so he's walking around face still bleeding and talking to people.

Then he meets Corroded Coffin and he has to make it an extended interview cause his Co-Worker Dustin adores them. The bleeding has mostly stopped by then, but the guy from earlier bumps into his back and glares at him.

And how hasn’t he been kicked out yet, Eddie thinks he’ll definitely try something again if Steve goes out on his own and the camera man can’t stop him, so he says fuck it and Steve sits with them for the rest of the event, with the Coffin guys as his body gaurds

Which works because everyone thinks they’re intimidating and ‘scary’, but in reality none of them know how to throw a punch and they’re relying on the facade.

Steve’s nose starts bleeding again at some point during the dinner portion, and Eddie is quick to grab the napkin out of his breast coat and dab it up.

Steve probably says something like, “You do this for all the girls?” And Gareth is all to happy to explain how he doesn’t, and how on their last tour Eddie fainted from Grant hitting himself with a drumstick and getting a nosebleed.

And Eddie really wishes he could smack him except the blood keeps coming and he needs to focus on cleaning it and staying awake.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #corroded coffin #hellfire #gareth #jeff #unnamed freak stranger things #crisisinverted17

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, interrupting himself mid-live streaming because Steve got home from work: Hey, baby. My PR manager called me today and said that you’re making me look “unrelatable” with your “big spending purchases”

Steve: Eddie, you’re the only guy I know who has been accused of murder, incited a mob, got ate by bats, and helped a band of plucky nerds save the world.

Steve: People like you because you’re weird. Not because you’re relatable. You have never been relatable

Steve:

Steve: Freak

Eddie, to the camera: That’s mean girl talk for ‘I love you.’

#steve: freak (affectionate) #Steve and Eddie’s FBI Agent: *banging their head against their desk* #Their coworker: Eddie Munson huh? he’s great. #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson